Terrorism

Readers may like to know that I have a cover piece in this week's magazine titled 'The Enemy Within'.  It is available here for subscribers. (Non-subscribers can subscribe here.) It looks at what - if anything - will change after the killing of Drummer Lee Rigby in Woolwich. It is also an account of just some of the difficulties going on inside the British government in the fight against extremism. On a separate but related note, my colleague at the Henry Jackson Society, Robin Simcox was testifying in front of the US House of Representatives last week. His testimony is here. Robin is one of the authors of our latest report on Al-Qaeda related terrorism in the US.

If, in the aftermath of an act of would-be terror, the people refuse to be terrorised does it still remain a terrorist act? Perhaps but there's a sense, I think, in which we should not grant yesterday's guilty men the title "terrorist". Murderers, surely, will suffice? There is no need to grant them the war they so plainly desire. This murder in Woolwich was an uncommon act of barbarity; the product too of a kind of mental illness. That does not excuse the act, far from it, and there's no need to be sparing in our condemnation. But, appalled as we may be, it seems important to recognise and remember just how unusual these acts remain. There will, quite properly, be consideration of whether the security service could have done more.

As we landed at Houston, I suddenly thought of my first visit to America, in 1965 during what we didn’t then call my gap year. Forty-eight years does seem a long time, but my fascination with this country is undimmed. The occasion of this trip was to talk at the British Studies seminar at the University of Texas, which has become a regular gig over the years, and Austin is now a nest of old friends. This time I made a new pal. Holly McCarthy is a graduate student, who became my cicerone, offering to take me across Austin on the back of her motor-scooter. After a deep breath, I cheerfully accepted. Really, it’s much the best way to see the town. With all my American friendships and happy professional connections, on every visit I think yet again of what G.K.

Yesterday, thousands of runners in the London Marathon converged on the greatest target in the world. Winston Churchill was the first to see the problem. ‘With our enormous metropolis here… [we are] a kind of tremendous fat cow, a valuable cow tied up to attract the beasts of prey,’ he told the Commons in 1934. But ‘we cannot possibly retreat, we cannot move London.’ New enemies, from the IRA to al-Qa’eda, have come to do their worst — but since the London Underground bombing of 7 July 2005 none has succeeded. The average British urbanite would be forgiven for thinking the threat has subsided. It has not. The atrocity at the Boston Marathon last week is a reminder that such threats never vanish — they just get intercepted. Most of the time.

I am delighted to say that my latest book, Bloody Sunday: truths, lies and the Saville Inquiry, has been jointly awarded the Christopher Ewart-Biggs memorial prize at a ceremony in Dublin. My co-winner is Julieann Campbell, author of Setting the Truth Free: the inside story of the Bloody Sunday justice campaign. The literary prize is named after the former British Ambassador to Ireland. Christopher Ewart-Biggs was educated at Wellington and Oxford and served with the Royal Kent Regiment during World War II. He lost his right eye at the Battle of el-Alamein. After Foreign Office postings to numerous countries, including Algeria, he arrived in Dublin in July 1976. Twelve days after his arrival he was murdered by the IRA in a landmine attack on his car. His killers were never found.